


Heavenly

by brink



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Dark, F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Jessica gets drunk!, Mind Control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-11 23:37:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5645950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brink/pseuds/brink
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jessica is left alone in a suite with not a lot of options. What's a girl to do?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heavenly

**Author's Note:**

> Not graphic, though Kilgrave is a sadistic bastard as always.

One day, Kilgrave leaves Jessica in the suite of a fancy hotel. He is going for some wellness treatment or other, because apparently being a psychotic, sociopathic, mind-controlling rapist gets taxing every now and again, and he needs a break. Before he goes, he sets her down on the bed.

"Alright darling, pay close attention to me now." Kilgrave, normally so laissez-faire, is very focused for once. "While I'm gone, you may not escape. You may not contact or communicate with anyone. If anybody knocks on the door, ignore it. You won't hurt yourself. You most definitely won't take steps to end your life. Or anyone else's, for that matter, should the possibility arise. Needless attention and such. Don't destroy any of the furniture either. It was very annoying the last time you did that." Kilgrave pauses and searches her eyes. "What else? Am I forgetting anything?"

"No, I think you've pretty much covered everything I'd want to do," deadpans Jessica.

Kilgrave's eyebrows rise fractionally. "I'm not sure that's the tone I want to hear from you, Jessie. You do realise it would be easier for me to make you stay in bed, unmovable, until I return? Maybe that's what I should do."

Jessica chews the inside of her cheek. She does it softly, because she can't hurt herself.

"No?" Kilgrave studies her face. "Alright then. Just don't say I never do anything for you. Now kiss me goodbye."

A moment later he is leaving, and as he exists the door, Kilgrave waves a hand over his head as an adieu. "Remember to miss me, now!" he sing-songs, and then he's gone.

Jessica feels a tug on her heart immediately. _Sick fuck_ , she thinks. Then she realises he's not there to take offence, and talking to herself doesn't count at communicating with anyone. "Sick fuck!" she says out loud. It feels lovely. "Sick, evil piece of shit! Fuck you!"

As quick as it came, the lovely feeling goes away, replaced by much worse things. The most unwelcome one is the longing for Kilgrave's return. Jessica knows the difference between her own emotions and the ones he makes her feel, but only just. Sorting through them is like trudging through a swamp. She has to keep moving, or she gets sucked into confusion and lose sight of what's real. _I don't miss Kilgrave_ , thinks Jessica, missing Kilgrave. _I hate him._ She clings to the thought.

What she needs is something to do that will take her mind off her feelings. The suite is lavish and filled with opportunities for just that. She can watch TV. She can take a soothing bath without fear that Kilgrave will want to join her. She can even work out - there's a whole room of the suite that's a dedicated gym.

Then, inspiration strikes. It strikes in the form of an imagined beam of heavenly light accompanied by angel choirs, shining right on the minibar.

"Minibar" her ass. Thankfully and beautifully, the minibar is less mini and more maxi - it's a proper fridge, and it is brimming with expensive liquors. Jessica foregoes the wines entirely; Kilgrave makes her drink wine basically every night, and the taste is forever connected to him and his pretentious little comments about vintage and dryness and imagined notes of berries or some other bullshit. Jessica is much happier to go for the alternatives, especially as most of them have very steep concentrations of alcohol.

An expensive gin is first to go, and it goes fast. Jessica's super-powered body doesn't react to alcohol like a regular body, but even she feels a buzz when the (properly sized) bottle is empty. It's a bit as if she has cushioned herself mentally, and it's a much-wanted relief. She grabs another bottle - this one a deep amber whisky - and pushes her feelings further away as she downs that too. It burns in such wonderful ways. When that bottle is nearly done too, Jessica gets to her feet and whirls around until she stands in front of a mirror. She winks at herself and slurs, "Thanks for only thinking of this _after_  he asked if he was forgetting anything."

Jessica in the mirror winks back, just as pleased.

When Kilgrave does return, Jessica has nearly emptied the not-mini-but-maxibar entirely. She's also poured out some bottles of wine in the toilet, "To you, Kilgrave, and to your ugly-as-fuck suits. Stop dressing like a prick, and die."

She is too blindingly drunk to even feel fear when she sees Kilgrave standing there in the door.

"Hiya, something-I-can't-call-you," she snickers, taking a swig of rum from the last bottle left. "I missed you. But you already know that."

"For god's sake, Jessica!" moans Kilgrave. "Is this what I get for trusting you? Put that down!"

Jessica obediently sets the rum aside.

"I'm _sorry_ ," she sneers.

Kilgrave slams the door behind him and strides up to her. "No you're bloody well not, but you will be. Jessica, I can't believe you. I want to trust you, but every time I try, you go and find some loophole to be difficult. Why? Do you want me to hurt you?"

Jessica is used to Kilgrave. She really is. But even after all this time, it still makes her stomach sour when he goes down this route. The victim's role, the 'Look-what-you-made-me-do' lamentation. If she had been in a slightly better mood, if she had been feeling at all a little triumphant, a little relieved, a little at ease, it all goes away in that moment.

"Oh for," fucks sake - but she can't say it, can't curse with him present, he has prevented it with earlier commands. "Do you really believe you can have that? Have me play along as the happy slave?" She waves her hands dramatically around for effect and shakes her head with disgust.

"Well, it certainly would be nice if you would at least try," says the maniac, having the goddamn gall to look upset and disappointed with her. It's so maddening Jessica wants to scream.

"You want me to make it easy for you," she accuses.

"I want you to make it easier for both of us. This is real, Jessie, you and me. These -" he makes sweeping motion with his arm to indicate the suite, where empty bottles a strewn like dominos, "these distasteful displays don't change that. They don't serve any purpose."

Jessica raises a trembling finger and points it at him. "Yes, they do. Yes they godd-... yes, they _do_. They turn your voice in my head into a distant whine, and that is worth everything to me!"

Kilgrave's jaw tigthens. "Apologise for that," he says coldly.

"I apologise." Kilgrave's words drift right out of her mouth on his command.

"Good. Now tell me, were you planning this all along? Before I left?"

"No."

"That's something, at least."

He considers her with a look of cold fury and distaste. This is the time to pipe down and minimise her loses. But as it happens, Jessica is very drunk.

"What's the matter, Kilgrave?" she croons. "Is it not classy enough for you that I'm drunk off my ass? Need me to strut my pinky like you do when you drink? Need me to be poised?"

"You're pushing it," Kilgrave warns in a dangerous tone.

"So push back," she says, stupidly. "Come on, get your hands dirty. Hit me. You've never done that before."

"And I don't plan to either." Kilgrave's voice is rising. She's getting to him. "Behave yourself, Jessica."

It's as if a set of iron jaws has closed around her. The taunting grin slides off her face. Jessica stops dangling and comes to a standstill, swaying slightly.

"Please do it," she says. Begging isn't misbehaving. "Please hit me."

"What is it with you?!" snarls Kilgrave in outrage. "I won't do that! I won't hurt you. Jesus, Jessica. It's like you're a whole other person."

"No, I'm _myself_ ," she says. Something is coming over her - her voice nearly breaks. "I'm not your imaginary friend. I'm _Jessica_." She closes her eyes and sees Trish, and feels such a stab of longing and grief that it almost makes her knees buckle. _Oh god, someone save me, save me please. Make it end_.

Kilgrave steps closer and puts his hands around her face, looking deeply into her eyes where tears are gathering. Something about her has alarmed him past his anger.

"Shh, darling," he mutters soothingly, concern radiating from him. "I know who you are, that's why I care so much about you. That's why I hate when you do things like this. You make things so difficult. There isn't a need, Jessica. Shh, don't cry."

He hugs her tightly.

"We'll figure all this out when you are feeling better," Kilgrave promises. He means it as a kindness, probably, but it translates as a threat of things to come, which it also is. Kilgrave kisses her hair and puts his mouth next to her ear. His next words are whispered, as though that makes them less cruel.

"Go to the bathroom, now, and stick your fingers down your throat till you vomit. Don't stop until there's nothing more to throw up."

He releases her and Jessica walks towards the bathroom as mechanically as a puppet on strings.

"Jessica. Wait."

Kilgrave is standing where she left him. The mask of concern has left him momentarily, revealing the sadistic truth beneath.

"Will you be so kind as to slap yourself first?"

Her head cracks to the side by the force of her own blow.

"Wonderful. Glad that's out of the way. Get to it, now. We shall talk more later."


End file.
